


they say love's a blessing

by heykittygirl



Category: Good Omens (TV), RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Angst, Drag Race, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, angel!trixie, demon!katya, god i guess this is gonna be a lot of angst and unrequited stuffs, god this is so fucking weird, i also would love to include more queens LMAO, i kind of have like a twenty chapter vision for this, like this is pretty much the only chapter you're gonna find good omens characters in, okay, okay so it's basically just, trixya - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:09:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28748226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heykittygirl/pseuds/heykittygirl
Summary: Trixie is an angel who was made to fall in love. Katya is an angel-turned-demon who's just out here having a good time. They meet on assignment watching over Cain, and become friends (maybe something more? sometimes something less?) as they go through the next several millennia together. What will come to the surface when they're tasked with saving the world from armageddon?
Relationships: Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	they say love's a blessing

**Author's Note:**

> so this is batshit insane haHA
> 
> again, it's basically just angel!trixie and demon!katya, eternally roaming the earth and being dumb and in love with each other. The Good Omens bit comes from the characterization of the archangels and also the general corporate vibe of Heaven and the gender situation with God/angels. God is feminine in Good Omens U and angels are all he/him but they all present differently. That said, I did give T+K she/her pronouns to make it easier on our eyes and also on my brain XD 
> 
> their voices aren't really their voices yet because it's genesis times and they don't know each other, but it'll get there maybe I think!
> 
> I know this isn't much to go on, but please let me know if you would like to see more! any comments are much appreciated! thank you and mwah

“Beatrix… of the Latin _beatus_ , the blessed. It is said she will guide Dante through Paradise, show him the nine celestial spheres of Heaven. She will fly around the Rose of Divine Love like a bee, and her beauty, transcendent of earthly means, will cast Dante into a bath of Heavenly light at his journey’s end. Oh, isn’t it _exciting_?” Sandalphon crooned, cradling a pale blue box. He had chosen this one from a large pile beside him, in which each little box represented an Angel as yet to be created. This particular afternoon, Sandalphon and Uriel had been tasked with Creating them, and while this was not an arduous task, per say, it was proving to be a feat in distractibility. 

“Yes, quite,” muttered Uriel. 

“I think I’ll call her... Trixie, for short.” Sandalphon smiled and plucked a chord of white ribbon affectionately, causing Uriel’s eyes to roll back into his head. 

“Oh — she’s an _Angel_ , Sandy, not a pet.” 

Sandalphon frowned. He leaned closer to Uriel in an attempt to peek at the clipboard with which he seemed so thoroughly and apprehensively occupied. Uriel moved it away with a huff. He tutted as his eyes traced over his clipboard at an even more furious pace. 

“You seem tense,” Sandalphon observed, “What’s the matter?” 

Uriel sighed, lowering his voice to a whisper. “It’s been said our Superior is… rather unhappy with her ‘Morning Star’ as of late. Reports say it appears as though the honeymoon phase is over. I fear the worst. The trouble is I’m not sure what ‘the worst’ could be.” 

“Oh… surely not. They’ve been inseparable since —… since... ” 

“We should pray it’s only a rumor.” Uriel dropped his clipboard beside the pile as he started to walk its perimeter, eyeing individual boxes. “I can’t imagine what the Almighty will do if Lucifer starts running away with all those ideas she’s planted in his head. He has power now. Of course, God has most of it, but we have none. We’ll have to choose our faces wisely.” As he locked eyes with Sandalphon, he thrust his hand into the pile and, drawing the first box he touched, hummed softly. 

“Seems I’ve got a girly one too,” He remarked, with an eyebrow quirked. 

It is true that all Angels were modeled after man, but not because they possess the male anatomical pieces; Angels do not have anatomical pieces, as they do not have ‘anatomy’. It was rather because they have the capacity to experience bloodlust. This was on purpose. You see, it was not just a rumor that things were quickly going South with the soon-to-be Prince of Darkness. Lucifer’s rebellion from Heaven would be the beginning of a brutal divide amongst divine entities, which would last for six thousand years and culminate in a bloody war, fought between Angels and those who had fallen with Lucifer, come to be known as Demons. The end of humankind would also be a somewhat... _minor_ consequence of this finale and would mark a new chapter in God’s ineffable plan. 

And so while it is, has been and will always be necessary for the Angels of God to house masculinity at their very core, their outward corporeal figures are their own to decorate. 

On earth, it is sometimes said: “you’re born naked and the rest is drag.” This is a helpful metaphor -- though not _entirely_ true. If you are an Angel, for example, you are born a screaming cloud of ashen debris, with a thousand strained and unblinking eyes staring out in all directions. Few choose to remain this way, especially when required to make contact with humankind, and so it is generally the norm for angels to dress themselves up in _human drag_. Though Angelkind inherently lacks any real conception of what is supposed to be ‘masculine’ or ‘feminine’ dress among humans, many develop certain tastes and preferences, and collective knowledge fills in the gaps. This is how you wind up with a ‘girlie’ Angel. It should be noted, perhaps, as an addendum, that lace-fronts were developed in Heaven long before they emerged on Earth.

Sandalphon had seen and adored the fate of his Beatrix, but Uriel couldn’t foresee anything for this -- _“... Katrapheral?”_ \-- that he had chosen. It was almost as though she had no future at all. 

“Gabriel,” Uriel sighed, as he strolled reluctantly toward Upper Management. He shoved the box forward into the Archangel’s hands and deadpanned: “This one’s broken.” 

Gabriel groaned. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“There’s no story on her. No future, nothing to see.” 

Gabriel took the box and studied it for a long time, his thick eyebrows screwing together tightly. His face grew paler the longer he stared, turning the box over and over again to examine every side and corner, more and more frantically as he went on. 

“Is everything alright, boss?” 

He seemed to snap out of a trance. “She does have a future. It’s just hidden from us.” 

Uriel quirked an eyebrow. “Hidden? Why? How?” 

“The Almighty wanted it that way.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know!” Gabriel barked, thrusting the box back into Uriel’s hands. He scrambled for some device in his breast-pocket as he stumbled a couple of steps backward. Holding it to his ear, Uriel heard him muttering ‘Get me Upstairs.’ It seemed that he _did_ know something. His eyes had become all at once wild and frantic. “Just… don’t ask any more questions,” he commanded, right before he turned and took off running down the corridor. 

Uriel shrugged, and thought: _fine, then._

**⁂**

Counted amongst those Angels who had taken, upon themselves, a graceless tumble into Hell alongside Lucifer was of course Uriel’s illegible _Katrapheral_. Shortly after the division of Heaven took place, she re-named herself _Katya,_ and was contented with this decision through the endless churning of millennia that afterward trickled slowly past her celestial body, always already crumbling by the first lick of fire. 

Back in those days -- those particularly scriptural days -- there was quite a bit of work to be done. But, much to Katya’s delight given that a certain slothfulness hung about her nature like -- well, a bit like a sloth -- there was also a plentitude of quiet moments; hours when there was little to do beside follow, in idle observation, the trek of a restless wanderer. 

Cain. 

The world’s first murderer; the first man to seek out death, and the first to be denied it. The deep red rune upon his neck caused all his would-be murderers (now the precedent was set) to avoid him completely, for fear that the wrath of God would make them seven times the broken man that was the son of Eve. It was tough bananas, Katya would contemplate, tough bananas for sure. 

From a rocky hillside, Katya followed Cain’s long haul day in and day out. It was generally a boring business; keep an eye on the boy, sustain the boy, imbue him on occasion with wild unrepentant visions, sometimes sleeping, sometimes waking in the hallucinatory desert heat. It wasn’t until this evening -- a camp-over in the land of Nod, far east of Eden -- that Katya even became aware of an angel who was also in pursuit of the boy, pacing after him along the hilltop only feet over Katya’s head. 

The Angel gave herself away in a fit of uncontrolled, screw-faced weeping. Katya rose to her level on the hill with a single flit of her elephantine black wings. It was quite a sight to see; in Katya’s experience, Angels strove toward a certain delicacy and grace, but that was lost completely in the snotty, makeup-melting sobfest this Angel’s face had staged. She jumped, doubling backward when her swollen eyes gave way and she finally noticed that she had been spotted. 

“You heard me,” The Angel remarked, magicking herself a cloth to dab randomly at her face. 

“I thought you were crying through a bullhorn.” Katya quipped. 

“A _bullhorn?_ I couldn’t. Those won’t be introduced here until --” 

“Oh,” The Demon replied, having forgotten herself, “It’s a joke. My side invented them yesterday, something about a chicken and a road. It’s how we laugh.”

The Angel’s faux eyebrows shot right up to her hairline. “You laugh on your side? Like, joyous, jubilation… ecstasy laugh?” 

“We do now,” Katya smiled, quite proud. As the Angel went about collecting herself, she slightly studied her. Her exaggerated features, those lovely geometric abstractions, were unlike anything Katya had seen, and yet there was something intimately familiar about them. She noticed, too, that they shared an almost-white platinum hair color, in addition to an obvious affinity for cosmetics. 

As the Angel finished restoring her face, Katya gestured with a tilt of her head to Cain’s camp. “I didn’t know one of your kind was watching him, too. I mean, don’t take this as a dig, but keeping him wicked has been a pretty easy gig.”

The remark rolled over the Angel like a stormcloud, casting shade over her paradisiacal countenance. Her shoulders slumped as her eyes rolled halfway back. 

“Ah,” Katya nodded, ever perceptive, “That’s the force behind the flood.” 

Once again the Angel seemed caught off guard. “Flood? What have you heard about a flood?” She demanded, with some authority in her voice, which wasn’t not hot (though that was a matter for another time, surely). 

“Wh-? Nothing. I just meant you were-” 

“Oh, right. Yeah.” The seraph coughed. “Sorry. Yeah." Shaking away thoughts of days to come, she rolled her neck and groaned slightly unexpectedly. "I just thought this job was gonna be a lot easier. All he has to do is say ‘I’m sorry’ in the general direction of Heaven, and you think that would look like a better option to him than, you know, literally being cursed and trapped for the rest of time. I thought he _wanted_ to repent. I mean, how was the kid supposed to know that hitting his brother’s skull repeatedly with a sizable rock would kill him? Or _was violent_ , even? They didn’t… have that before. He didn’t want to--… he didn’t know…” she trailed off, not entirely convicted of her own sensemaking. “But I’ve tried everything, and you’re obviously winning. I don’t know why I’m lamenting to _you_.” 

“Hey, don’t take it personal.” Katya shrugged, “You could easily end up getting the next one. Maybe he’s just not _supposed_ to repent. We don’t know. Isn’t that the whole point -- the whole ineffable Godhead thing?” 

“Oh,” The Angel sighed, pushing the heels of her palms against her eyes and drawing a deep, steadying breath, “I don’t know.” 

“Me either,” Katya admitted, smirking with the right corners of her mouth. 

And just then, far, far east of Eden, the sky grumbled and the clouds, which had been scarce only moments before, began to weep a soft rain. Katya lifted a black wing to shelter herself, and perhaps accidentally the Angel as well. 

“Oh, wow.” The Seraph muttered under her breath, watching the light rain fall over the desert, over the tattered shelter where Cain lay sleeping, dreaming of beasts and all manner of wilderness. She was a mystic, in the sense that she was still mystified by things. 

She chanced another look in Katya’s direction, this one composed, and almost unadulteratedly kind. The small gift of shelter under the Demon’s wing didn’t go unnoticed, though she hesitated to revel in it for obvious reasons. “I’m Trixie.” She said. 

Something clicked into place when she heard the Angel’s name. _Trixie_ , yes. She’d heard that before, but when? “Katya,” She returned. As they locked eyes in a soft-spoken introduction, Katya searched Trixie’s for some sort of clue. It wasn’t long until Trixie’s skin flushed to a gentle primrose shade, and an explanation was owed. “I don’t associate with Angels. I mean, not often. But there’s something familiar about you, I just can’t place it.” 

Trixie nodded, understanding, and glad not to be lured any longer by the Demon’s blue gaze. She smiled as she gazed back out over the plain, remembering all the good that was certain in her future, and the dominion of goodness in general. “You probably heard of me. Trixie is short for Beatrix, like Dante’s Beatrix. I’m the first angel they ever made to fall in love.” 

Her smile was delicate, and graceful, then. She was at once angelic; more so than ever before, maybe. 

And of course Katya could notice beauty when she saw it. Fallen from grace, certainly. But blind to it? Never. And what a curse. What a curse. 

“That’s probably it.” Katya nodded, still looking at her in a sideways glance. 

The tossing and turning of endless nightmare coming from Cain’s tent ceased all at once. This hour; this hour only, he dreamt of pleasant things: a moderate sun, a warm meal with his mother, an endless, exultant dance, a bed of feathers -- and _good_ omens.


End file.
